Everything Between
by Hester
Summary: Divination death threats, strange marriages, and why is Draco wearing a dress? Mayhem, drama, love...all while saving the world, one toad at a time. (I suck at summaries...)
1. Of Step Families and Potions

A/N: Of course, I don't own any of the HP characters, they belong to the brilliant JKRowling. I do, however, own the plot and any original characters...but I really doubt you'd want to steal those ;). This takes place after book four...which, *sigh* I haven't read because...well, c'mon $28 bucks in hardback is a bit much to spring for...espeically for a financially strapped sixteen year old, so excuse the inconsistencies. In other words, the 'rents don't want to support my HP obession...because, let's face it, you know you're obsessed if you're writing HP fan fiction. The reason I'm putting it after the 4th book, is because it would be really weird to write about the fourth year when it's already been written about (if that made any sense at all *sigh*). Anyway, enjoy...comments welcome, flames...uh...hey, if you hate it that much, just stop reading. Oh! And this is my first adventure in the wide realm of Harry Potter fan fiction, so be kind! *waves*   
----  
  
CHAPTER ONE  
  
With a sigh, Harry sat down, his plate flopping onto the table. Monday mornings never did agree with him. He looked at Ron, who was slumped over his muffin, a scowl on his face.   
"Morning!" Hermione chirped, lightly sitting next to Ron.  
"What are you so happy about?" Ron mumbled, sitting up a little. Hermione shrugged, a grin still on her face. Harry arched an eyebrow, but said nothing.   
"I really don't feel like facing another Potions class today," Ron said, poking at tray. Harry nodded.  
"I barely made it through last nights homework...I doubt any of it's right," he scowled. Hermione's grin faded.  
"It wasn't that bad," she said, "If you two had paid more attention in class, it would have been a breeze."  
"I do pay attention," Ron said sourly. Hermione rolled her eyes.  
"Ron, you barely managed to keep your eyes open...and sometimes, I swear you can sleep sitting up."  
"Well, maybe if his class was more interesting..." Ron muttered.  
"And we didn't have it with Slytherin," Harry added. Hermione had no response to that. Having potions with Slytherin was a strange sort of torture, espeically with Snape's pet in the class. Hermione was genearlly beloved by all her teachers. All, of course, excpet Snape, who seemed to loathe her very existence based simply on the fact she was a part of Gryfindor and friends with Harry Potter.  
"Well, we've been in his class for four years, you'd think by now we could handle him," Harry sighed. Hermione started into an overview of the last two weeks in potions, her book and notes spread across the table. Harry noticed Ron get even more sleepy eyed and secretly hoped his friend didn't collapse on the table, snoring, because Hermione would more than likely clobber him to death.  
  
Just as it was really starting to get good, and Hermione was about to reach the peak of her lecture, Pansy Parkinson walked by with another Slytherin. She was almost screaming as she walked by and stopped abruptly right next to the Gryffindors, watching them out of the corner of her eye.  
"Did you hear about the Hufflepuff?" she asked slowly. The other girl shook her head.  
"No...what happened?"  
"Well, she's in our year, Philomena Bell, and her mother just married Fiona's father!" Pansy exclaimed. Harry looked to Ron who looked to Hermione. The point of the two girls conversation was basically lost on the three of them, until Hermione perked up a little.  
"You mean Fiona Batterwall?" the other Slytherin asked.  
"Yeah...can you believe it? A Hufflepuff mudblood and a Slytherin...related! It's an outrage! Draco nearly croaked when she annouced it last night," Pansy said absently. The two girls walked off. Harry looked at Ron.  
"What was the point of that?" he asked.  
"Who knows," Ron muttered. Hermione bit her lip.  
"Philomena Bell is in my Arithamancy class," Hermione said.  
"So?"  
"So, she's smart, but a bit of a...well...a clutz. She broke her remembrall the second day she had it because she forgot she had it in her robes while riding her broom. I can't see her and a Slytherin getting along...at all!" Hermione said, frowning.  
"Do you think her father's a...you know...a...a-"  
"Probably," Hermione said. Fiona Batterwall was a pushy, tall, predatory girl that stalked around Hogwarts like a restless beast. Her father was rich, and it was well known that anyone in Slytherin was NOT of muggle decent. Also, Batterwall had been a part of the Voldemort following and no doubt, a Death Eater.  
"Wow...why?" Ron stumbled.  
"Why what?" Harry asked. Hermione blushed. She knew what Ron was getting at.  
"I think her father was a muggle."  
"Geez, talk about an evil step family," Ron breathed. Classes would soon start, so the three got up and headed for Potions. Harry couldn't help the sigh that escaped as they descended the steps, into the dungeon. He felt bad for Philomena, even if he didn't know her. But, he wondered why Pansy would make it a point to have their conversation right in front of the Gryffindor table. He rolled his eyes and figured it was just Pansy looking for more attention, negative or positive, it didn't really matter to her.  
Harry, Hermione, and Ron sat towards the back of the classroom. Ron and Harry looked like they were about to fall asleep and Snape had only walked to the front of the classroom. Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle were nearby, smirks firmly in place, as usual.   
Fiona walked in a few paces behind Harry and went to sit with Pansy. The trademark Slytherin smirk was somehow missing from her face and she almost looked awkward as she sat down next to Pansy. Nobody turned to say hello, in fact, the others were almost ignoring her. Hermione watched as she was shunned by her fellow peers, simply because her father had married a woman who had a daughter that was a mudblood. She shuddered at the word. Fiona's momentary discomfort, however, was soon covered by a smooth, dispassionate smirk as she shifted her robes in her seat and started looking for her parchment with last night's homework on it. Pansy finally turned towards the other girl and managed a small attempt at a smile.   
"Is that Fiona?" Ron asked following Hermione's gaze. She nodded.  
"Seems like the others aren't too happy about the new wedding arrangement," she said. "Oh, they'll get over it," Ron mumbled, fumbling around with his bag, looking for a quill.  
Snape cleared his throat and the class became silent. Harry settled into his seat, preparing for another day of Potions, and silently hoping he didn't cost Gryffindor anymore than five points today, as Snape custumarly tried his hardest to find something wrong with Harry to deduct points.  
Snape reached down and picked up a vile containing a strange green mixture. He looked at it and slowly turned to the class.  
"This," he started, "is Verliv. A powerful potion used to cure numerous ailments. When mixed properly, it can do only good, when mixed improperly, it can be deadly."  
The class watched with silent rapture as he produced another vile, this one with a darker shade of green, and bubbling slightly. He let a drop fall onto the table below him and, with a hiss, it started to eat through the parchment. He picked up the paper and disposed of it with a slight sigh. Turning back to the class, he looked directly toward Neville Longbottom.  
"So, I suggest you use caution and pay special attention as I demonstrate."  
Snape started listing ingrediants and rambling off instructions. Hermione was frantically taking down notes and Ron and Harry were each scrawling down bits and pieces, hoping that between the two of them, they could get it all down. With only a few minutes before the class was over, Snape gazed around at his classroom.  
"And one more thing, this will take the entire year to make. This is only step one," he said with a sneer that must have been meant as a smile.  
Harry and Ron let out a sigh and started gathering their things. The three filed out of the room, dejectedly muttering about how awful the rest of the year would be and how impossible the potion was.   
"Let's see you bad you screw this one up, Potter," Draco said, sauntering by. Harry rolled his eyes.  
"Probably not as bad as you," he said, then sighed. Of the hundreds of comebacks that had been rolling around in his head, he had picked the lamest one possible. Draco arched an eyebrow and sneared.  
"We'll see." 


	2. Of Pudding and Toads

A/N: Usual disclaimer...I don't own any HP characters, they all belong to JKR. I do own any original characters and I suppose the plot too. Anyway, there you go. Please enjoy and R/R!!!!!! (please! I'm begging!)  
  
CHAPTER TWO (Of Pudding and Toads)  
  
  
Philomena sighed and wandered towards the Great Hall for lunch. She walked past the Slytherin table accutely aware of the glares she was attracting. Her gaze momentarily flicked in that direction, before her shoulders slumped and she flopped down at the Hufflepuff table. Margaret Appledown gave a sympathetic smile to her friend as the pudding on her tray slid down and with a definite plop, landed on Philomena's shirt.   
"This day could not get any worse," she muttered, absently dapping at the pudding.  
"Oh, don't worry...it can only get better, right?" Margaret tried. Philomena glared at her lunch. Nothing in her life ever got better.   
"I guess," she mumbled, taking a spoonful of pudding. She ate her dessert first, something she had done since childhood.  
"Just because you're related through marriage to Fiona does not mean you're automatically going to become a Slytherin...so don't worry. Besides, you'll only have to see her around the holidays...Christmas...summer...but, you know, you can always travel...or something," Margaret said, watching her friend's expression turn sour again.  
"Right, thanks a bundle," she sighed. They finished in silence and Philomena gathered her books, preparing for her Defense Against the Dark Arts class.   
"See you after class," she said to Margret as she got to her feet, barely missing toppling over her friend's glass of pumkin juice.  
"Yeah, and Phil...please, cheer up," Margaret said. Philomena nodded.  
"Yeah, alright."  
Her mother had sent an owl two nights ago, informing her shocked daughter that she was getting married to Victor Batterwall. They had barely dated, she wondered if her mother even knew Victor had a daughter. But there was little she could do now. She didn't know what to say to Fiona, and wondered if maybe it was best to say nothing.  
"Hey Bell!"   
Philomena turned at her name. Fiona was sitting with a gang of girls around her at the Slytherin lunch table, slightly motioning her towards the table. Philomena swallowed hard, and slowly approached the group.  
"Yeah?"   
"Look, we need to talk...just because my dad is marrying your mom, does not mean that we have to be friends," Fiona said, the group of girls around her glaring at Philomena.   
"Oh...uh, yeah," Philomena said awkwardly. How does one respond to that?  
"So...why are you still standing there?" she asked, pursing her lips and glaring. Philomena blinked, then started to back away and managed to collide with someone walking towards the table.  
"S-sorry!" she sputtered. Draco Malfoy recovered his composure quickly, and was thankful he hadn't had any food.  
"Why don't you watch where you're going," he sneered. Philomena finally cracked and glared back at him. Turning on her heal, she stalked off, forgetting her Divination and History of Magic books on the floor where she had dropped them. Draco wouldn't have bothered to pick them up if they hadn't been in his way. With a sigh, he reached down picked them up, then dropped them at the Hufflepuff table without much fanfare.  
Draco looked towards Fiona and shook his head.  
"Was that your new step sister?" he asked, not bothering to hide the sarcasm in his voice. Fiona nodded and rolled her eyes.  
"She's hopeless."  
"I dare say she's the clutziest girl at Hogwarts," Pansy muttered, poking at her lunch absently. Fiona nodded.  
"Just be thankful we don't have potions with her. Last year, she turned the entire class orange for three days. She somehow managed to mess up a simple water purification potion, one can only guess how," Fiona said, biting her lip.  
"You're going to be living with her?" Draco asked, disgust evident on his face. Fiona nodded limply. Draco's lip curled slightly and he gave a small shudder. No one had ever described Philomena Bell as lithe or graceful, and for good reason. Her first year had been a small catastrophe, though not as notorious as Neville Longbottom, trouble seemed to seek Philomena out.   
"What was your father thinking?" Pansy chortled, sticking a grape in her mouth. Fiona sighed.  
"I'm sure he has a good reason. I have yet to meet her mother, though with a daughter like Philomena, I worry the apple did not fall far from the tree," Fiona sighed sadly. Dysfunctional families were normal in Slytherin, parents were not expected to be loving, supportive, or interested in the lives of their children in the least. However, this was stretching it, even by Slytherin standards.  
***  
Harry stared absently at the potions book in front of him. He had since copied Hermione's notes from class and was now attempting to at least start his homework.   
"You know you won't get anything done," Ron said, finding a seat next to Harry in the library.   
"I figured I'd at least humor Hermione. With practices after school every night, I barely have time to sleep, let alone do homework," he answered.   
"Looking forward to Divination?" Ron questioned. Harry shrugged. Professor Trelawney seemed like a nice enough woman, but it was hard to get past the impending doom her class always seemed to bring him.   
"I suppose I'm going to die again this year," Harry said, taking a deep breath.  
"Maybe not, she seemed to be in a rather good mood today."  
"And so I live to see another day," Harry muttered, flipping the page of his potions book with an irritated flick.  
Hermione found a seat and frowned as Ron continued to mangle his potions notes into something that might have been a bird. He obviously had not mastered the muggle art of paper folding, something he had seen another student do, and now was all but obsessing over.  
"At least /someone/ is responsible around here," she said, looking at Harry, who knew better than to get involved in their fights.  
"Really? Who?"  
Hermione rolled her eyes and grabbed for her Arithmancy book.  
"You know, I've been hearing a lot about these toads that keep popping up around muggles," Ron said slowly. Harry bristled. The very same toads that seemed to bare a strange black mark on their belly, which, everyone immeadiately seemed to associate with evil, and so with Voldemort.  
"I thought they found out the cause was infected pond water," Hermione said, looking up from her book. Ron shook his head.  
"No, that's just a theory...I've heard they think it's-"  
"You know, not every black mark is caused by magic," Harry cut in irritably.   
"And besides, they're nt doing anything...I mean, they aren't hopping around changing muggles into flies or anything...oh Ron, don't give me that look, honestly, you make such a big deal out of everything," Hermione sniffed, turning back to the parchement.  
"Well, fine then, but when you get turned into a big hairy fly by a toad, don't come running to me," Ron said sputtered. Harry arched an eyebrow and looked up.  
"I doubt she would be able to run-"  
"Don't you start!"   
Hermoine decided a subject change was sorely needed as Ron was quickly becoming more and more indignant by the minute.  
"So, Harry, when is the first Quidditch match?" Hermione asked.   
"In a few weeks," Harry answered quickly.   
"Against who?" Ron questioned.  
"Ravenclaw," Harry said, a little too enthusiastically.  
"Isn't Cho-"  
"Yes," Harry answered quickly, blushing and looking around the library for fear she possibly over heard. Ron seemed to take great pleasure in making his friend blush and laughed as Harry slowly slid lower in his seat. Hermione looked at him reprovingly, but also couldn't help the small smile.  
  
____  
  
So, um...whatdya think? Please Review *whimper*. I promise, it'll start getting more interesting soon, I'm sort of just setting the ground work now. 


	3. Of Cottonballs and Scars

A/N: I don't own any HP characters, they, of course, belong to the wonderful JKR, so don't sue, I'm not making any $ off of this, it's purely for the entertainment value it may have. I do own any original characters, and the plot I suppose. Review. Review. Review. Reveiw. Please? Review. Review. You know you want to. Please? Pretty please? (I'm not really this pathetic...really...)  
  
~*~Explanation time! Yeeha!: Alright, this chapter mainly focuses on Philomena and Fiona...I love making Slytherins miserable *evilgrin* But, of course, it wouldn't be HP fan fiction without Harry, so just hang on.   
  
CHAPTER THREE (Of Cottonballs and Scars)  
  
Next to her cheap silicon I look minimal  
That's why in front of your eyes I'm invisible  
But you gotta know small things also count  
You better put your feet on the ground  
And see what it's about  
--"Objection (Tango)" by Shakira  
  
Philomena stared awkwardly at her hands and tried to remember where she had left her Muggle Studies book. She remembered having it a lunch, but after that it was a stange blur.  
"Where did you have it last?" Margaret asked. Philomena sighed.  
"At lunch...in the Great Hall," she answered, biting her plump lip.  
"Well then, c'mon, let's go check," Margaret said, pushing away from the library table and charging towards the door. Philomena followed, nearly killing herself as her robes got caught on a chair and chocked her. She heard someone snicker behind her and turned to see Draco Malfoy smirking at her.  
"Ever the picture of delicacy, Bell," he sneered. She flushed, and opened her mouth to answer him, but was quickly steered away by Margaret.  
"Forget him," she said quietly, leading Philomena down the hall, towards the Great Hall.  
"It's not that easy. Everything seems to go wrong when there's a Slytherin around. I swear they all hate me," she grumbled.   
"They hate everyone."  
"Yeah, but...it's different now, I'm actually related to one."  
"So? I thought you said Fiona made it quite clear that nothing would change between the two of you.."  
"Well, she did, but-"  
"Stop worrying, please! Before you get yourself killed," Margaret exclaimed, pulling Philomena out of the way of an opening door. Philomena grumbled as she tried to straighten her robes. They entered the Great Hall, but found nothing. Philomena sighed and slumped against the wall.  
"Great...just great," she muttered. Margaret was quiet.  
"Fiona?" she asked, hopefully. Philomena let out a great sigh.  
"I guess I'll have to ask," she said.   
"Do you even know where the Slytherin enterance is?" Margaret asked.  
"Well...no, I thought you did."  
"Why would I know?"  
"I don't know...so, what to do now?"  
Philomena was quickly deflating and Margaret worried that her friend would soon collapse into a heap on the floor if something didn't happen soon.  
"Alright, uh...what about Malfoy?" she was desperate. Philomena's eyes widened.  
"What? No!" she sputtered.   
"You need those books! We have a huge assignment in Muggle Studies tonight!" Margaret exclaimed. Philomena covered her face with her hands and started rubbing her eyes. With a dejected sigh, she nodded.  
"Alright. Let's just get this over with," she muttered.  
***  
"You what?" Draco Malfoy asked, nearly chocking as he listened to the Hufflepuff talk.  
"I need those books...and I need to ask if Fiona has them," she answered.  
"You left them in the Great Hall," he answered flippantly, looking away. Philomena glared at the top of his head. Margaret had slowly inched herself away from the two and was trying to looking busy as she rifled through her own bag for her books.  
"How would you know?" she asked. Draco rolled his eyes.  
"Because you dropped them right in front of me."  
"Well, they aren't there anymore..."  
"Why would Fiona have them?"  
Philomena was on the brink of a nervous collapse.  
"Alright, never mind then!" she sputtered, turning on her heal and nearly colliding with another student. Draco silently cursed to himself as he watched her pout at a nearby table, trying to stare at him maliciously, but only managing to look like a moody five-year-old.  
He got up, gathered his books, and made for the door.  
"You can follow me if you want, I need to get something from my room anyway," he muttered, walking by her table. Philomena got up slowly and trailed him, feeling not unlike a hopeful puppy dog, following an abusive master.  
"Fine," she muttered, trying to mimic Fiona's uninterested tone. She was nearly running, trying to keep up with the taller Slytherin as he breezed through the school, towards the dungeon. He muttered the password and had almost disappeared inside, before Philomena spoke up.  
"Uh...can you check if she has them?" she asked tentatvily. Draco froze and turned around. His gaze was steely and a smirk was forming on his lips. Philomena realized her folly and quickly looked to her feet, preparing for the barb that was no doubt about to come.  
"I'm not you're lap dog, go do it yourself," he spat, turning on his heel and disappearing through the gap in the wall. She sighed. For a moment, she had almost thought he was human. Slowly stepping into the common room, she jumped as the portrait slammed shut behind her. Instantly, she felt their eyes on her, accessing her with an icy detachment, and ultimately, finding her lacking.  
"What are you doing here?" a boy she recognized from the sorting ceremony asked.  
"I..I...I want my-"  
"Well, out with it already, we haven't got all day," another exclaimed.  
"My books," Philomena said, on the brink of tears as they stared her. There was silence, she thought she heard someone start laughing quietly. She didn't move, just stood there, looking quite pathetic. Taking a deep breath, she surveyed the small group of unfriendly eyes and found Fiona.  
"Did you pick them up?" she asked, looking to Fiona, who, up until now, had ignored Philomena's very existence. She snorted and let out a slight laugh.  
"Why would I keep track of /your/ smelly books?"  
"I.." she didn't bother to finishe her sentence. She turned around and nearly ran for the portrait hole, which, she thought wryly, seemed to also be laughing at her. It opened and she threw herself into the abandoned dungeon corridor. Infuriated, she stalked towards the stairs. It wasn't asking all that much for them to be at least civil! How was she going to do her homework? Her mind raced as she continued towards the Hufflepuff tower. There was a blind corner just before the staircase that everyone had sense enough to approach with a certain amount of caution. Everyone, that is, excecpt Philomena who barelled around it and crashed into an unlucky Slytherin.  
"Draco Malfoy! What on earth! You just went to your room for Merlin's sake! How many times do you have to enter and exit in one day!?" Philomena sputtered.  
"Stuff it Bell, if you hadn't been completely careless, this wouldn't have happened," he snarled, a hand over his eye.   
"Oh please, of course, blame this on-what happened?" she said abruptly, watching him cover his left eye with his hand.   
"I'm bleeding," he said dryly. Her eyes widened and Draco swore he heard a whimper.  
"You're bleeding?" she asked softly.   
"Yes, it would appear so," he muttered, getting back on his feet. She had already produced a cottonball from her robe and was preparing to dab at his eye when he glowered at her.  
"A cottonball?"  
"It's all I have...it will have to suffice until we get you to the Madam Pomfrey," she said, starting for the staircase.  
"I'm fine," he mumbled, preparing to go back to his room.  
"No, you're bleeding! You're coming with me," she said, placing her hands on her hips and matching his gaze. With a sigh, he relented and started for the stairs.  
"Here," Philomena murmured, batting away his hand and dabbing at the cut above his eyes. They were sitting in the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey was busy rooting around for a specific potion. Draco had closed his eye and was trying, without much success, to wrench the cottonball from Philomena's grasp. She whimpered again and then a small sob escaped. He jerked his right eye open.  
"Are you crying?" he sputtered. She quickly turned away with a sniffle and soon began to hiccup. Draco stared at her in disbelief.  
"Good god, get it together woman, I'll not have you poking at my eye if you're in tears...honestly, a five-year-old has more control than you," he muttered, continuing to bat away her hand. She finally looked back at him, glowering.  
"Oh, shut up," she said, dropping the cottonball and flopping onto the bed next to him, her arms crossed. Draco finally relaxed, figuring she had given up her proddings for the day. However, as a small drop trickled down his forehead, she attacked again with renewed energy.  
"Honestly, put the cottonball down! I'm fine!" he snapped. Philomena sniffled again and he let a loud, pained sigh.  
"No, you're not! And this is all my fault!" she cried. Draco would have agreed with her, but figured if he did, she would fall to pieces. Finally, with a small groan, she stopped and, again, flopped down beside him.  
"Alright...I'll stop," she murmured, staring at her feet. He glanced over at her with his good eye. She was a pitiful sight, puffy eyes, tear stained face, frown creasing her face, arms crossed.  
"You're rotten...the lot of you," she said, barely over a whisper. Madame Pomfrey had returned triumphant. Philomena didn't look at him or talk to him as she left the hospital wing, tramping back to her tower, very, very far away from any Slytherin. The entire day had been a complete and utter lose. Her books were gone, she supposed she could borrow someone else's books tonight, but tomorrow, during class...how would she explain it this time? She had just made a complete and utter fool out of herself in front almost the entire Slytherine house, and now, she had all but beheaded Draco Malfoy, though, she thought bitterly, he did sort of deserve it.   
***  
  
Harry would have enjoyed very much rubbing this in Malfoy's face, had Philomena not been involved, he would have charged right in. In fact, the whole scene, a small, concerned girl poking at Malfoy's eye with a bloodstained cottonball and Malfoy, looking quite indignant, and not at all his usual calm, collected self, trying to defend his eyes as best he could, seemed oddly surreal.  
Harry had momentarily forgotten the reason he had trudged to the hospital wing in the first place. Madam Pomfrey regarded him as he walked in, looking for any bleeding wounds or dismembered body parts. When she found none she abandoned Draco, who was no patched back together.  
"Oh, Harry, dear, what's wrong?" she asked. Harry bit his lip and absently brushed his unruly hair out of his eyes.  
"I have an amazing headache," he said, rubbing his head. Pomfrey nodded and vanished again, rooting around for another potion or serum. Draco leveled a glare at Harry and arched an eyebrow.  
"A headache?"  
"What's it to you?" Harry shot back, his head throbbing as he spoke. Draco just laughed and sauntered out the door.  
Pomfrey reappeared and handed Harry a small vial.  
"Here, this should help," she said. There was a pause as Harry downed the solution, his face twisting in disgust as the bitter liquid washed through his mouth. She regarded him slowly.  
"Was it your scar?" she asked blatently. Harry nearly choked as he swallowed.   
"No...just a headache," he said adamanetly. Pomfrey nodded and Harry relaxed as the acheing seised. The truth was, it had been his scar. But he was afraid of sending the whole school into a panic. He could just imagine Colin running after him with a camera, hoping to get a shot of him groping at his forehead. It had happened at Hagrid's, he had been down to make up a missed homework assignment, when he had suddenly felt it start to throb. It didn't burn, like it had years ago, but it ached. It was a disconcerting feeling, still, he wondered what else could go wrong, what other danger he would have to face. He sighed, how many more times he would have to face down death simply because he had lived. He laughed, and that was painful truth. Simply because he had lived. Ironic, funny even, if only it had been that simple.  
***  
Fiona glared at the Slytherine portrait hole as it opened. Draco emerged, still absently swatting at his eye, just to make sure the flesh was still connected. He noticed Fiona's glare, and Pansy not far behind. He didn't bother to stop or ask what, exactly, they were staring at.  
"You have a cottonball sticking out of your robe," Fiona called after him.   
  
___  
  
Alright, I admit, bascially fluff...little plot, or so you think ::cackle:: Aren't you just itching to review? Of course ya are! Right? 


	4. Of Confussion and Families

A/N: Yeah, yeah, standard warning, I don't own the HP characters; they belong to their rightful owner, JKR. I do, however, own the original characters that I created. Please review :).  
  
~*~Explanation time! Yeeha!- trying some stuff out...I won't know what works and what doesn't if you don't review *sweet smile*  
  
CHAPTER FOUR (Of Confusion and Families)  
  
Next to her cheap silicon I look minimal  
That's why in front of your eyes I'm invisible  
But you gotta know small things also count  
You better put your feet on the ground  
And see what it's about  
--"Objection (Tango)" by Shakira  
  
  
Philomena collapsed on her bed with a definite flop. Her robes were discarded on the floor, exchanged for the customary Hogwarts pajamas. Margaret sat down at the bottom of Philomena's bed and waited patiently for her to resurface.  
"Phil...c'mon...talk to me," she said, poking her friend's foot.  
"Aw, Margaret, go away," Philomena sighed into her pillow.  
"What happened?"   
"I almost killed Draco Malfoy, I made a complete fool out of myself in front of all of Slytherin, and I lost my books."  
"Sounds about average for you," she sighed. Philomena rolled over long enough to shoot Margaret a glare before rolling onto her stomach once again.  
"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I found your books."  
At this, Philomena sat up.  
"You did?"  
"Yeah, Hermione stopped by with them. She said they were in the library," Margaret shrugged and Philomena deflated.  
"So, you're saying they were in the /library/ the entire time?" she grumbled.  
"I guess so," Margaret said.  
"Figures," Philomena sighed.  
"Now...what else of this killing and humiliating part?"  
"It's a long...twisted...sad story," Philomena muttered.  
"I'm not going anywhere," Margaret said. Philomena started into the strange story of her adventure to the "depths of hell, more commonly called Slytherin House", and how she plowed down Draco.   
"Well, it could have been worse...you could have knocked him unconscious," Margaret offered when she was done. Philomena sighed.  
"That's not funny."  
***  
Draco picked the cotton ball off of his collar and turned to face Fiona.  
"What happened?" she asked. He arched an eyebrow and wondered how on earth to begin.  
"Nothing," he snapped. Crabbe and Goyle took up their customary positions beside him, but Fiona persisted.  
"So, you were walking around with a bloody cotton ball because you wanted to?"  
"Yes."  
"Fine," Fiona said, and Draco was instantly reminded of the library.  
"Fine," he returned evenly.  
"Was it Potter?"  
Draco snorted, "No, much worse."  
"Philomena?"  
He nodded with a yawn. Fiona rolled her eyes.  
"What'd she do this time?"  
Draco smirked slightly, but shook his head.  
"Did she ever find her books?" Fiona asked. Draco paused a moment, then nodded.  
"Well, good...hopefully she won't come barging in her next time, accusing us of stealing her books...honestly, the nerve," Fiona muttered, wandering towards the girls room. Draco turned back to his room, feeling like he could sleep for days, his eye still acheing.   
***  
  
Harry hobbled towards the Great Hall the next morning, feeling not unlike a blind elephant as he flopped down next to Ron.  
"What's wrong with you?" Ron asked, turning to his friend. Harry sighed.  
"My head," he muttered, rubbing his temples. Hermione looked concerned as she watched him over her Dangerous Creatures book.  
"Didn't it hurt yesterday too?" she asked. He nodded absently.  
"Maybe you should go see Madame Pomfrey again," Ron said. Harry moaned, but didn't object.  
"Maybe," he sighed. After all, he could be a little late to potions today.  
Harry muttered something about not feeling hungry and got up. Ron and Hermione started to follow, but he waved them away.  
"No use all three of us missing Potions," he said, remembering the huge assignment that was supposedly going to take 'all year'. Ron arched an eyebrow.  
"Alright, Hermione, you go, I'll make sure Harry gets to the infirmary," Ron said, still following. Hermione stopped and glared at him.  
"Oh yes, the perilous journey that is the hospital wing," she said, rolling her eyes. Harry winced as his headache increased. Hermione sighed, but relented.  
"Fine, besides, you'll only end up copying my notes anyway," she murmured, casting one more worried glance towards Harry.  
"I'm probably just coming down with the flu," Harry said, trying to ignore Ron's not all too subtle glances at his scar.  
"The what?"   
"It's a muggle-oh never mind," Harry said, pushing through the door. Madame Pomfrey frowned as he entered, holding his head.  
"You're head again?"   
"Yes ma'am," he answered. Ron watched as Pomfrey disappeared into another room.  
"Where does she go?" he asked quietly, staring at the door she had just closed. Harry shrugged.  
"Maybe it's best we don't know," he answered, though he doubted anything could really surprise him now.  
"What do you think she'd got back there?"   
But before Harry could answer she was back, with the same vile as last night. Harry shuddered, remembering how horrible it had tasted, but he would do anything to relieve the throbbing of his head. He took the vile and with one more deep breath, downed the contents in a single, forced gulp. Ron watched as Harry's face contorted and silently prayed he never got a headache at Hogwarts.  
"Is it that bad?" he asked as Harry finally relaxed.   
"Oh yes," he said, looking at the empty vile with distaste.  
"If it comes back, I want to know immediately. I wonder if this is worse than just a simple headache," Madame Pomfrey said, watching him closely. Harry nodded, and got to his feet. Once in the hallway, Harry noticed Ron dragging.  
"Something wrong?"  
"No use getting there any sooner then we need to," Ron said, stopping to stare out a window. The less time spent in Snape's dungeon, the better. However, their conscious finally got the best of them as they remembered Hermione was still there, and so quickened their steps. Harry worried about his head for the rest of the day. Why was it suddenly hurting? It couldn't have something to do with those frogs, could it? He quickly dismissed that thought with a slight laugh. Ron was really starting to get to him. Of course it wasn't the frogs, as he had said himself, not everything strange has to do with evil. But still, he was starting to feel a bit uneasy, and more than a little confused.  
***  
Philomena sat in Arithmancy, barely able to keep her eyes open. She had more then once been caught sleeping in the class, and did not intend to incur the wrath of Professor Vector today. This was one of the few classes Hufflepuff had with Slytherin and Philomena couldn't help but look towards Fiona. She glared back at her book, trying to concentrate on Vector's explanation. Fiona did well in all of her subjects, with what seemed little effort. She barely paid attention in Arithmancy and usually did homework for another class. It was a source of great annoyance for Philomena. How on earth were they going to coexist in a family? It would be impossible. She figured they would stay out of each other's way. But how would they manage to keep separated for two months? The thought of Christmas made her uneasy. Philomena did not particularly want to face the awkwardness of going home with Fiona and meeting her new father. She had heard stories, all of which were not positive, concerning Victor Batterwall, but she hoped very much that they were all greatly exaggerated.  
With a small sigh, she rested her head on her hand and started to write down the night's homework as Professor Vector scrawled it on the board.  
As the class started to leave, Philomena felt a presence behind her and slowly turned around, careful not to knock her chair over in the process.  
"/Your/ mother sent a note...it's in my room, if you want to see it, you'll have to come by tonight before I throw it away," Fiona said coolly.  
"Uh...ok, um, when?"  
"After diner," she answered. Philomena shrank, not the Slytherin commons again. She shuddered, the memory of last night still fresh in her mind.  
"I'm doomed." 


	5. Of Cookies and Realizations

A/N: Usual disclaimer, I don't own the HP character, they belong to JKR. I do own any original characters...don't sue; I'm not making any money off of this.  
  
~*~Explanation time! Yeeha!- More Slytherin pain *evil grin*, please tell me what you think? Do you hate Philomena? I'm giving into Eva…alright, fine, I'm giving Philomena a "luuuooo-ve" interest : )~ (this chapter focuses almost entirely on Philomena…yes, I know, I'm only a few steps away from making her a Mary Sue, so if you think I've gone too far, and you're starting to hate her, then tell me! I hate Mary Sue's as much as the next person, but sometimes, it's really hard to resist the temptation ::shudder::  
  
CHAPTER FIVE (Of Cookies and Realizations)  
  
Next to her cheap silicon I look minimal  
  
That's why in front of your eyes I'm invisible  
  
But you gotta know small things also count  
  
You better put your feet on the ground  
  
And see what it's about  
  
--"Objection (Tango)" by Shakira  
  
With a tired, tenative look, Philomena stood in front of the Slytherin dorm after dinner, waiting for Fiona to open the portrait hole. She wondered if maybe her new stepsister hadn't conveniently forgotten about their appointment and was debating whether or not to leave.  
  
"What are you doing down here?" a voice hissed beside her. Philomena let out a screech and fell back into the person behind her, sending them both crashing to the floor with a thud.  
  
"Malfoy! Geez! What do you do, float around the school?" Philomena exclaimed, squinting in the dark light. She heard a sigh.  
  
"You know, I'm beginning to wonder if maybe you aren't a walking, talking death wish," he muttered. Philomena sniffed indignantly.  
  
"I'd be offended if it was anyone else," she muttered. There was a pause.  
  
"Get off of me."  
  
Philomena's eyes widened as she scrambled to get out of his lap and stand. She blushed and was grateful for their dark surroundings. Draco managed to get to his feet, glaring at her.  
  
"Lose more books?" he asked with a smirk.  
  
"No. My mother sent a card," she answered haughtily, pulling at her robes.  
  
"Why did Fiona get it?"  
  
"She has an owl," Philomena answered as if should have been quite obvious. Philomena paused as he started to move for the portrait hole. She bit her lip and finally found her voice.  
  
"I think she forgot," she murmured. Draco gave no reply, and she didn't press it. Instead, she leaned against the cool wall and prepared to wait. She had an eerie connection with her mother. For years they had lived alone together, and any sort of correspondence from her was worth waiting for, even if it was in a mildly depressing dungeon.  
  
She watched him disappear through the open door, and waited to hear the definitive clank of it slamming shut, but it never came. She slowly got to her feet and edged closer. Looking in, she saw Draco's disappearing form. Fiona was sitting in the commons room, doing homework, obviously oblivious to Philomena's presence. She absently looked up, and gave a sour expression.  
  
"Oh, it's you," she said, getting up from the chair. Philomena sighed.  
  
"Do you have the note?"  
  
"Yeah," Fiona answered, stalking through the commons room. Philomena was talking through the open portrait, dreading to step through. Fiona paused halfway through the room and threw an annoyed glance in Philomena's direction.  
  
"Are you coming?"  
  
Philomena obliged and slowly clamored after her stepsister. She led her towards the girl's dormitory and waited outside as Fiona found the note. She returned moments later and all but threw it at Philomena before slamming the door in her face. Blinking, Philomena slowly backed away and managed to find her own way to the commons room. The room was deserted, so she paused and ripped the small parchment open.  
  
1 Phil-  
  
2 Darling, sorry this isn't longer, but things are so hectic around her now, what with the marriage and moving. Enclosed is the address of our new house, I can't wait until you see it; it's absolutely beautiful! Please be patient with Fiona, this is a hard adjustment, I know, for both of you. I love you!  
  
3 -Phyl  
  
4  
  
Philomena rolled her eyes. Her mother's full name was Phyllis, but she enjoyed, very much, that both of their names started with the same root and she could call herself, and her daughter, Phil. She looked at the parchment one last time before beginning to roll it up. Then, with a slight chirp, the parchment turned into a chocolate chip cookie. Phyllis Dillerwood had been one of the best transfiguration students to walk the halls of Hogwarts, even if she was American and could barely pronounce Latin, and had once turned her apple into a man-eating beast.  
  
"Where'd that come from?" a voice asked behind her. Philomena jumped, but managed not to collide with anything nearby.  
  
"My mom," she answered, turning to Draco who was staring at the cookie.  
  
"Must not run in the family…" he muttered. Philomena glared at him.  
  
"I'm getting better! Besides, you aren't the transfiguration master you think you are," she said indignantly.  
  
"And yet, somehow better than you."  
  
Philomena rolled her eyes, but couldn't come up with a response. So, with a huff, she turned on her heel, and charged towards the exit. She managed to make it to the door with only a slight stumble and was extra careful while walking around the corner.  
  
Fiona emerged from the girls dormitory moments after Philomena left.  
  
"So, she left?"  
  
"Yeah," he murmured, sitting in one of the chair by the fire.  
  
"You know…I'm going to have to spend Christmas with her," Fiona sighed.  
  
"Have fun. Hope you don't die."  
  
"I can't promise anything, she's a walking, talking-"  
  
"Death wish."  
  
"Well, I was going to say catastrophe, but death wish works too," Fiona said, slamming her book shut.  
  
"It's just that…she doesn't even try! How am I going to live with her? I can barely stand the sight of her and my father expects me to somehow coexist with that disaster of a girl?!" Fiona exclaimed. Draco shrugged; Slytherins didn't do a lot of bonding. Fiona seemed aware of his discomfort and got up with a sigh. Pansy would be in the dorm room, and more open to "discuss" Philomena.  
  
With a groan Draco shook his head and tried to clear his mind. It had been, mildly put, a strange week. Philomena had been, at the onset of this, a simple, clumsy, jovial Hufflepuff that wondered around Hogwarts, eating chocolate chip cookies, happily anonymous and very much uninterested in anything Slytherin. Now, however, it seemed every other day she was barging in here, demanding books, notes, cookies, and somehow always managing to inflict physical pain upon him. And now, though he would deny it to everyone, including himself, he was oddly aware of the strange color of her eyes and the way her nose wrinkled when she as mad or upset. An observation he wished he had never made.  
  
Philomena sat down to lunch with a sigh. The first quidditch match of the season was tomorrow and the whole school bursting with energy. Margaret smiled as she took her seat next to Philomena, unaware of the eyes that were following her friend's every movement.  
  
"You excited about tomorrow?"  
  
"What? Quidditch? I guess," Philomena sighed. Margaret laughed.  
  
"You're not telling me that you aren't the least bit excited about the match between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor," Margaret said, putting special emphasis on the last house. Philomena blushed, and absently poked at her lunch.  
  
"Very funny Margaret," she said.  
  
"I'm sorry…I couldn't help myself, it's just so…cute that you have a crush on Oliver Wood!" Margaret exclaimed. Philomena didn't bother to quiet her friend, because it was true. Ever since her first year, she had harbored a rather large crush on older boy. But, she shot Margaret a sour glance and continued to pick at her sandwich.  
  
"If you bothered to pay attention, Margaret, you'd know that Wood graduated already," she sighed, slumping onto her elbow.  
  
"He did? Really? Geez, where was I?"  
  
"Probably too busy gawking at the Ravenclaw team," Philomena shot back. Margaret colored, and found her lunch suddenly interesting.  
  
"I'm assuming that's why you're not exactly thrilled about the new season," Margaret said. Philomena sighed, still nursing a broken heart. She remembered when she had accidentally dumped her dinner all over him on her first day. It had been love at first site.  
  
"Yeah, I suppose," Philomena said, between bites.  
  
"Well, maybe you'll find someone new," Margaret said. Philomena let out a moan.  
  
"There will never be anyone else!"  
  
"Maybe Wood has a younger sibling?"  
  
"It wouldn't be the same…he was perfection!" Philomena groaned. Margaret stifled a giggle with her apple.  
  
"Maybe you should broaden your horizons?" Margaret suggested.  
  
"What?"  
  
"To other houses?"  
  
Philomena let out a pained, heart-broken sigh.  
  
"Yeah right."  
  
"No, seriously, what about…" Margaret paused and looked around the Great Hall at the tables.  
  
"Yeah…?"  
  
"What about Slytherin?" Margaret asked, her eyes falling on a certain person.  
  
"No!" Philomena exclaimed adamantly.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"It's Slytherin, isn't that enough? I mean, who needs an excuse…besides, when has a Slytherin ever looked beyond their own house?"  
  
"There's always a first for-"  
  
"Don't even finish that sentence, honestly, I cannot believe what I'm hearing!"  
  
"I'm not going to spend the rest of the year trying to get you to snap out of your little Wood obsession!" Margaret shot back.  
  
"You're one to talk about obsessions!" Philomena glowered. Margaret looked genuinely hurt, and got up abruptly. Margaret had fancied a boy in Ravenclaw; they had Muggle Studies together, but he ignored her. Last year, she had mustered up enough courage to ask him to the Yule Ball, only to find out he was dating someone else. It had hurt Margaret, and she still wasn't quite over the sting. Philomena closed her eyes and slouched in her seat. She knew it had been a cheap shot, but she was really getting sick of Margaret's constant teasing. Slowly, Philomena got to her feet and wandered back to the Hufflepuff tower, feeling rather dejected.  
  
As she blundered her way through the Great Hall, she felt a presence beside her and couldn't help the sour expression on her face.  
  
"What?" she glowered, turning around to face Fiona.  
  
"I want to know what's going on between you and-"  
  
"Me and who? I'm not dating anyone, I'm not trying to date anyone, and the only thing I really want to do right now is disappear for a few days!" Philomena sputtered, nearly colliding with a group of first-years. Fiona sneered, then turned away and walked back towards her table. She had never seen the mild-mannered Hufflepuff so flustered and saw that her shadow, Margaret, had disappeared.  
  
Philomena collapsed in the library, feeling extremely confused. She hadn't meant to snap at Margaret, but things suddenly were so weird. Her mother had married a supposed Death Eater, she was now related through marriage to a Slytherin, but worst of all, she swallowed heard, worst of all, she felt a sudden affection for the most unexpected of people. A person she knew nothing about, a person that had been nothing but mean, obnoxious, and cold to her, and a person that would otherwise repulse her. But, somehow, he didn't, and she was so confused she didn't what to think or say anymore. 


	6. Of Questions and Kisses

A/N: I don't own any HP characters; they belong to the wonderful JK Rowling. I do, however, own any original characters (you really wanna steal Philomena?) and the plot (you don't want this plot...trust me ::grumble::, I hate writer's block). In any event, R/R please!  
  
~*~Explanation: what the heck is going on? Erm...well...I'm sorta stuck on the Harry part, so I'm working my way through the Philomena stuff until I come to grips with the Harry part, I really don't like what I've written so far...so, any SUGGESTIONS would be greatly appreciated. Mary Sue? ::smacks forehead:: Damn, too late...or is it? Is she? Or isn't she? Whatdya think? Having Draco's father beat him is rather cliché, I know, as most fics are written like that, but it does seem rather appropriate for the kind of man Lucius is, or rather, seems to be at this point. And yes...*sigh* it has begun. As OOC as Draco may be, damn it, I don't care ::pout::  
  
//\\ donates thoughts...yes, that's right, I'm lazy ^_^  
  
CHAPTER SIX (Of Questions and Kisses)  
  
Wrong or Right  
  
Be mine tonight  
  
Harsh world be damned  
  
We'll make a stand  
  
Love can bind  
  
But mine is blind  
  
Others stray but I won't  
  
Walk away  
  
Walk away  
  
--"I Won't Walk Away" by Jewel  
  
That night, Philomena tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep. She had apologized to Margaret, but still, something felt wrong. Christmas was looming on the horizon, and she got sick every time she thought about spending the holiday in a new house, with a new family. In fact, she sighed, it wouldn't be Christmas, not really. Everything would be different; everything would be wrong. With another sigh, she slipped out of bed and quietly pushed her cat, Humphrey, out of the way. She crept to the window and gazed out at the grounds of Hogwarts.  
  
A thought manifested in Philomena's mind, and she couldn't shake. She bit her lip and made for the stairs, managing to trip over three different pairs of shoes and one, very confused, very hungry cat. Philomena held her breath as she fell to the floor. She looked to the other beds for any signs of life. Nobody stirred, so Philomena continued on he way. Once in the commons room, she made her way to the portrait hole and into the deserted hallways.  
  
Taking off at a trot, she headed for the Astronomy tower. It was a common hang out at night, thanks, in part, to Harry Potter. His late night excursions had inspired more students to roam the halls at night. Mrs. Norris was positively beside herself. Tonight, however, it too was deserted, so Philomena flopped down on the floor and gazed absently at the clear, night sky.  
  
"Fancy meeting you here."  
  
Philomena's heart nearly stopped beating as she looked up to see Malfoy looming over her.  
  
"Good grief!" she sputtered, getting up.  
  
"Shouldn't you be in bed?"  
  
"I'll go if you go," she shot back, crossing her arms. She realized then that she was still in her pajamas and that she was walking around in pink bunny slippers (**was there ever a doubt? **). Draco sat down, his back to her and she slowly sat next to him, ignoring the disgusted look on his face as she did so.  
  
"What's she like?" Philomena asked.  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Fiona. What's she really like?"  
  
Draco arched an eyebrow. Oh no. He was not going to play family mediator...not tonight.  
  
"Why don't you go ask her?"  
  
"Because she'll laugh in my face."  
  
Draco was silent.  
  
"And I won't?"  
  
"You didn't."  
  
"I'm just too tired to laugh," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. Philomena noticed he was still in his uniform.  
  
"How long have you been up here?" she questioned.  
  
"Don't know," he muttered.  
  
"You should go to bed," she said absently, trying to stifle a yawn. He shot a sideways glance.  
  
"Why are you even out here?" he asked.  
  
"Because I wanted to spend more time with you," she said, smirking.  
  
"Trying to kill me, are you?"  
  
"It was an accident," Philomena pouted.  
  
"So you keep trying to tell me," he muttered.  
  
"You're a real up lifting person."  
  
"I don't see you running for the door," he said, with a sigh. There was a pause that seemed, well, that seemed almost companionable.  
  
"Why are you out here?" she asked, turning towards him.  
  
"To be alone," he said wryly. She glowered at him.  
  
"Alright, geez, I can take a hint...you need to be alone to brood, I understand," Philomena slowly got to her feet and had taken only a step when she felt a cold, smooth hand grab her wrist and pull her back.  
  
"Maybe not tonight."  
  
He had said it so softly; she almost didn't hear him. Hesitating for only a second, she slowly dropped into a sitting position next to him. Draco glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. Her hair looked like a dead animal had made its last stand on top her head, and her pajamas hung loosely about her figure, which was oddly pear-shaped. Her chest was nothing amazingly special, and in fact, was quite small, and did nothing to balance her hips. And she had a baby face, eyes that seemed almost too big and too blue, apple cheeks, and a red, pouty mouth that only made her look younger. She was, he mused, everything any self-respecting Slytherin should hate. Yet here he was. They sat in silence for a while until Philomena stirred.  
  
"I think if I don't get back to bed, I will fall asleep right here," she yawned. Putting out a hand, she tried to stand up, but nearly fell over as her right leg had fallen asleep. Flailing rather ungracefully for something to support herself with, she felt cool, able hands pull her onto her feet.  
  
"Walking. Talking. Death wish," he sighed quietly. Philomena stood perfectly still. She could feel his breath on her cheek, and his hand was still threaded through hers. Her heart was racing and her breath was coming in ragged gasps, which she was trying desperately to hide. His lips brushed against her ear and sent a shiver up her spine. With a jerk, she twitched out of his grasp and with an uneven breath, turned towards the door. She felt thoroughly shaken, but not, she realized, in a completely bad way. Philomena didn't get far before tripping over a desk and sprawling on the floor with a dull smack. Again, the same deft hands reached out and grabbed her. She finally met his gaze, but instead of the malicious grin that usually followed one of her more stupid acts, his face was oddly devoid of any emotion, positive or negative. He pulled her up to her feet with a small sigh.  
  
"That's twice," he muttered.  
  
"Well, it's rather dark," Philomena sputtered, running a hand absently through her tousled hair. And with that, they parted. Philomena, nearly running back to Hufflepuff, for fear that Mrs. Norris would happen by and she would be found, again, out of bed at night. Draco Malfoy, her head was spinning, what on Earth had happened?  
  
Draco collapsed into his bed. The nightmares had come back. Dreams of home, he laughed bitterly. Last summer had been the worst one yet. The beatings had been nightly, and his father had not even bothered to heal his wounds before inflicting new ones. The result, he flinched, were huge scars on his back. That is why he went to the astronomy tower, but Philomena Bell would never understand. No, poor, naive, sheltered Philomena would never know what it felt like to be whipped, hundreds of times over, then starved for a week, and whipped again. She would not know what it felt like to sleep in a puddle of her own blood, or to wake up, unable to open her yes, because they were swollen shut. A part of him hated her for this, but a part of him also wished, even hoped, that she would never find out.  
  
He had finally come to grips, ironically in the astronomy tower, with the fact that he felt something other than hate towards the Hufflepuff. What, exactly, he wasn't sure, but he had found the presence of her warm, soft body oddly reassuring, if not, he shuddered, slightly desirable. He shook the thought out of his mind. No, he would not think about that, not now.  
  
The next morning, Philomena could barely keep her eyes open. She yawned all through breakfast and was barely conscious when the Great Hall started to empty as students wandered to their classes.  
  
"Phil? Hello? Philomena! Let's go, we have class!" Margaret exclaimed, poking her friend. She knew that Philomena had crept out of the tower last night, but she was waiting to grill her friend until after classes. Philomena nodded absently.  
  
"Alright, alright...I'm going, I'm going," she muttered, gathering her books and heading for Arithmancy.  
  
"I'll see you at lunch," Margaret called, heading in the opposite direction. Philomena nodded, and tried to stifle another yawn. She wondered how she would ever manage to get through the school day, and was extremely thankful that it was a Friday. With a sigh she flopped into her seat and absently rummaged in her bag for her quill and parchment.  
  
She heard someone giggle and looked up to see Pansy Parkinson hanging on the every word of Draco Malfoy. Philomena quickly looked away, and paled as she felt a twinge of jealousy. Shaking her head, she tried to clear her thoughts, but found that it only made her throbbing headache worse. She groaned and rubbed her temples, unaware of the eyes on her back.  
  
//I do not like Draco Malfoy. I do not love Draco Malfoy. I do not find Draco Malfoy pleasing in any way, shape, or form. I am not jealous of Pansy Parkinson. I do not care, in the least, that he is paying attention to her, nor do I care that she is giggling. I do not like Draco Malfoy. I do not like Draco Malfoy.//  
  
Pansy giggled again.  
  
//Oh.God. Yes I do.// Philomena's head dropped into her arms with a slight sigh. She was well aware of his reputation. It was not a good one, to say the least. It was rumored that he had slept with several girls, younger and older; that he had dated at least twice as many, and had left a trail of broken hearts, but then again, rumors were often exaggerated, especially at Hogwarts. They also said he was a Death Eater, and drank the blood of virgins every full moon, but Philomena seriously doubted that one.  
  
Arithmancy was a blur. When it was finally time to go, Philomena was barely aware of the homework assignment. She was busily scrawling it down on the nearest sheet of paper, not paying much attention to what was happening around her.  
  
"That's last night's assignment," a voice said beside her. Philomena frowned.  
  
"I knew that," she muttered, turning to face Draco with her best effort at a scowl.  
  
"Of course," he said, then wandered away. Philomena bristled. What was that supposed to mean? Rolling her eyes, she gathered her books and lumbered out of Arithmancy, books in her arms, quill in her mouth, overflowing bag on her shoulder. She glared at Draco as she walked by, and was completely unprepared for him to grab the quill from her mouth and shove it in her bag.  
  
"You're a mess," he sneered. Philomena flared at this, but said nothing, only stalked off as she heard Fiona snicker.  
  
There it was again, acting like a two year old, barely able to put one foot in front of the other. With another sigh, Philomena collapsed in Muggle Studies with a definite thud.  
  
She looked towards Margaret who was sympathetically trying to organize the mess that was her friend.  
  
"You look horrible," Margaret fussed.  
  
"You don't know the half of it."  
  
"Ohhh! Spill!"  
  
"You don't wanna know. It's tragic," Philomena said, throwing books into her bag and putting away her Arithmancy notes, trying to prepare for her next class.  
  
Philomena started at the beginning of the whole twisted story as Margaret listened, spread out on her stomach, eating a chocolate frog.  
  
"So, he helped you up?" Margaret sputtered in-between bites.  
  
"Well, sorta," Philomena said, toying with her pillow.  
  
"That's really weird" she exclaimed.  
  
"You're telling me..." Philomena sighed.  
  
"Do you like him?" Margaret asked tentatively. Philomena paused.  
  
"I think so. I'm not sure. I don't know him that well...and, well, the things I've heard, they aren't quite complimentary."  
  
"They're rumors, you know how things get around Hogwarts. I mean, just last year it was rumored that Pansy Parkinson was the illegitimate child of Snape and a graduated student."  
  
"That was more funny than believable," Philomena giggled.  
  
"So...do you like him?"  
  
"I don't know! That's really the only other time I've been alone with him...besides the time I split his eye open," she sighed.  
  
"Would you want to spend more time with him?" Margaret asked slowly.  
  
"I...I...I guess," Philomena stuttered.  
  
"Well, then why are you sitting around here? Go to the astronomy tower!" Margaret grinned.  
  
"What?"  
  
"He goes there almost every night."  
  
"How would you know?!"  
  
"Don't you pay any attention during lunch?"  
  
"What's there to pay attention to?"  
  
"It was going around the table that he didn't go back to the tower last night, again...spent the night with some...girl," Margaret said giggled. Philomena blushed.  
  
"Nobody knows...they don't think that I...that we...oh dear."  
  
"No! Nobody knows it was you, calm down! But the weird thing is, he never said who it was or what they were doing...and he certainly isn't going around denying any of the rumors saying he was having-"  
  
"Why on earth would I want to meet that...that little creep again if he's letting the entire school think that he's-"  
  
"Nobody knows it was you!" Margaret said again. Philomena bit her lip.  
  
"Still! It's the principle of the whole thing," she muttered.  
  
"Go!" Margaret said, pointing towards the door.  
  
"I don't want to get in trouble!" Philomena said, turning away.  
  
"Sacrifices must be made!" Margaret said, fussing over Philomena's disheveled hair.  
  
"I'm not going to sacrifice myself!" Philomena gurgled indignantly.  
  
"May I suggest losing the bunny slippers?"  
  
"No! I like-"  
  
But before Philomena could get the rest of her sentence out, Margaret had already led her down the stairs and pushed her out the portrait hole. Philomena stood there a moment, staring at the now pitch black hallway.  
  
"Well, this is a fine mess," she muttered to herself. Then, she thought she heard tiny, furry, footsteps coming up the hallway, and darted for the astronomy tower, silently freaking out the entire way. Twice she nearly tripped over her own feet, and almost let out a yelp, but put a hand over her mouth to quiet her cry.  
  
She plodded up the staircase, her heart on the brink of explosion as she collapsed on the last step.  
  
"I'm going to kill her. I'm going to absolutely murder Margaret for this," she seethed, trying to calm her nerves.  
  
"Do what?"  
  
"Don't start," Philomena growled, turning to Draco.  
  
"I always knew you were homicidal," he muttered.  
  
"Oh don't. even. Start." Philomena gulped, getting to her feet.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You're the one going around pretending that you had some big adventurous night when all you did was sit around last night with me, looking sour and brooding!" Philomena exclaimed, hitting him on the shoulder for emphasis. Draco gave her a rather bemused look.  
  
"What on Earth are you babbling about?"  
  
"All those rumors about you being this big hot shot...I can't believe you!" Philomena sputtered. She paced in front of him, just talking to talk. She honestly didn't care what others thought about him or his nightly exploits, but now felt exceedingly awkward in front of him.  
  
"What, are you jealous? Jealous that something didn't happen?" he drawled, watching her pace.  
  
"No! Jealous?! Ha! I'd just as soon eat my own throw up then do anything with y-"  
  
Philomena's sentence was cut off as a pair of smooth, warm lips covered her own. Her eyes widened and she pushed away, falling over her own feet in the process and glaring at Draco with what she hoped was a disapproving look, but figured she probably looked more confused than anything else.  
  
Draco smirked, it was an awkward kiss at best, and he wondered if maybe he hadn't been her first.  
  
"That was rotten!" she exclaimed, getting to her feet.  
  
"I would agree," he said, arching an eyebrow.  
  
"Are you implying I'm a bad kisser!?"  
  
"Bad, I believe, is an understatement."  
  
Philomena glared at the floor, her arms crossed.  
  
"You...confuse me," she said after a slight pause.  
  
"Well that's not hard to do."  
  
With a sigh, she nodded slowly and turned around.  
  
"No...I suppose not."  
  
With a frustrated groan, Draco grabbed her wrist.  
  
"Wait, I didn't mean it," he muttered.  
  
"I don't care," Philomena muttered through gritted teeth.  
  
"It wasn't a bad kiss."  
  
"I still don't care."  
  
"I think you're being rather childish," he said. His voice was soft, almost gentle, and Philomena could feel her resolve slowly diminishing.  
  
Draco watched her wrinkle her nose, then slowly, her expression softened. He smiled and reached out for her hand.  
  
"Don't hate me," he sighed. Philomena's breath got caught in her throat, but she refused to meet his gaze. Any minute he could pull away and start laughing, this could all be one big joke.  
  
"Then don't hate me," Philomena whispered evenly. Her voice sounded small, even to her own ears. She hadn't meant to sound so pathetic, and she bit her lip. Maybe she really was hopeless.  
  
"I don't hate you," Draco said softly. And so the awful truth was out. He winced, realizing his horrible folly; he was now at her mercy.  
  
"I find that rather hard to believe."  
  
"Why?"  
  
He was slowly edging closer, she could feel his body next to her and she wondered if maybe she was in way over her head. Her heart was pounding in her chest and the only coherent thought that was roaming around her head was the strange shiver that went up her spine every time he touched her and how smooth his hand was.  
  
"Because I'm a Hufflepuff, and you're a Slytherin...and you glare at me every chance you get, and make fun of me whenever the mood strikes you...and...and you seem to delight in my misery," she said, hiding a small sigh as his other hand snaked around her waist. Philomena closed her eyes and held her breath as she felt his lips brush her cheek. She was now completely enveloped by his body and could barely manage to stand upright, were he not supporting her.  
  
"I do not delight in your misery," he said after a pause. Philomena barely heard him.  
  
"Oh really? So, if I were to collapse in the middle of the hall, you would not laugh?" she asked, quite seriously.  
  
"Of course I would," he answered with a small smile. Philomena frowned.  
  
"You, sir, are one very mean person," she sputtered, trying, in vain, to wriggle out of his grasp. His grip seemed to tighten, so she gave up and settled back into him.  
  
Draco leaned into her, his head resting on her shoulder, her hair tickling his cheek, her warm breath on his ear. She was so soft, so very, very soft, and sweet. He resolved to lose himself, to forget the black cloud that surrounded him, to focus only on the small form he clutched in his arms. She didn't say anything, and slowly, he felt her relax and almost melt into his body. He listened intently to her breathing, to the rhythmic beating of her heart, trying not to remember the nightmares that would soon come to haunt him, if he were to let go.  
  
"No," he all but sighed, bringing her closer. Philomena didn't resist, and slowly, she turned into him, leaning her head against his shoulder. This was right. This was something that had been right before either of them had ever set foot in Hogwarts, years before, ages before, lifetimes before. She knew these arms, she knew these hands, this face, she knew this person, and it terrified her. There was a force, a strange bond that held them together, and from the very instant she had come careening into his life in a dark, dungeon hallway, she had been peculiarly aware of it. She closed her eyes and wondered just what she was getting herself into. There would be pain, she knew. Swallowing hard, she tried desperately not to think about the rumors, not to think about Pansy, not to think about that cold, hard, glare that he seemed only too ready to give her. How could one person have two completely different sides? But for now, she was simply content to hold him and be held.  
  
"I won't leave you," Philomena murmured. Her voice was distant and strange, and almost sounded as if it hadn't even come from her, but from some place long gone, some time now forgotten. She felt him relax.  
  
"I know."  
  
Eep! Did I really just do that?! Yes, yes I did. Comments welcome. Moving too quickly? Tough nookies! Still working on the Harry bit, I promise I won't make this into a sappy romance...unless, of course, you want it to be a sappy romace ::grin::. Ok, so, go ahead, R/R, you know you want to. 


End file.
